I forced a smile, my lips dry and cracking under the strain. "I remember Anya loved steamed dumplings the most," I said, my voice quiet but deliberate.
The light in Tristan's eyes dimmed instantly. His playful demeanor froze and an impatient frown crept across his face. He sighed heavily, as if I had ruined some perfect illusion. After a pause, he adjusted his tone, layering it with forced patience.
"Why bring her up now? Aren't we married? You're even carrying our child."
His hand reached out, brushing against my stomach. The touch was light, almost tender, but it burned like ice against my skin. He didn't know—the child he spoke of, the one he had never truly cared for, was long gone. Nothing remained now, not even the possibility of life.
"Yes, we're married," I replied, my voice brittle, each word tasting of ash.
Tristan didn't notice the bitterness in my tone. He turned away, heading toward the bathroom, his movements quick and restless. I watched his reflection on the glass door, his face strained as he raised his phone to his ear.
"Did you tell Zara you've returned to the country?" His voice was low but sharp, each word cutting like a blade. "I'm already in a mess right now. Give me some time and I'll sort this out."
My chest tightened as I listened. So, he was planning to end this marriage. But for whom? The sharp sound of a scream from his phone broke my thoughts.
"I don't care! I'm coming over now!" the woman on the other end cried, her voice shrilled with desperation.
Tristan slammed his fist against the bathroom wall, the sound echoing through the room. He looked cornered, his vulnerability raw and exposed. For all his posturing, Tristan had always been fragile, breaking under the weight of his lies.
"What's going on?" I called out, feigning concern.
"Nothing," he replied quickly, his voice uneven. "Something fell."
Moments later, the bathroom light flicked off and he emerged, carrying the coolness of the night with him. Sliding into bed beside me, he pulled the blanket over my shoulders and spoke in a coaxing tone.
"Now that you're pregnant, you should rest more. Go to sleep."
But his eyes, reflecting the pale moonlight, weren't on me. They were distant, lost in thoughts of someone else.